When I sit - or meditate, for lack of a better word - it is never the same. Some days I am able to concentrate within seconds, and I am off, gone on an interior journey, that, too, is never exactly like the day before. I have learned over the years that what I am experiencing in those minutes and sometimes hours of meditation is both a shift of my consciousness from exterior stimuli to inner knowing, but also my choice to turn off the radio stations signifying the outside world and tune into my own authentic station. The radio stations of the outside world are not bad or wrong, it is just that they have very little to do with who I truly am and what my personal, individual journey is. There is the drone of other voices, and there is the harmony of your own. It would be like wanting to start keeping a diary, and copying the words of someone else’s diary instead of figuring out what it is you want to say. If I still myself, I can hear myself; it is as simple as that. And when I can hear myself, I always know the content is true. Always. There is no need to sort out what is spin and what is edited, what is imagined and what is emotional. What wells up from my higher self is instantly clear and resonant. For me, there is no equivalent.
This work is a co-operative practice. I reach up and my higher self, my team, reaches down, and we meet in the middle. I have led some friends and some strangers into themselves through meditative practice, and for those that feel that quiet clicking in, they are transformed. They crave stillness the way others crave other highs. Finding that inner sanctum is a high of sorts, a plateau from which to look back upon your adorable humanity and wonder why you do things this way or that way, why you believe what you believe.
Others come to me wanting me to fix them, to "do" them up. They want answers now, they want to feel better right now. They do not see value in the struggle nor see their own resourcefulness. They do not feel the clicking in of feeling into their home vibration. They would rather do anything than be with themselves. I feel for them so deeply; I have felt that brokenness and shame myself, when you'd rather do anything than quietly sit amongst that museum of self. In that space, you only see the terrible choices, the hurt, the wrongs, the blame. If only, I say, if only you could sit with your trauma a little while, be with it, you might see the tiniest sign of all the stillness that lies beneath. The trauma, the addictions, the hurts, they are only waves on the surface of the ocean; below, under the waves, is the majority of the ocean, the power, is is calm and still and teeming with life.